Beware the Quiet Ones
by topshelfpenguin
Summary: In the aftermath of the Nanking Massacre, China reflects on his and Japan's crumbling relationship.


This oneshot was written in reply to an anon on Tumblr who wanted dark JapanxChina angst. It's kind of strayed away from the ship, but I thought I'd share it here.

_**Disclaimer:**__ Hetalia and all related media are the property of Hidekazu Himaruya and do not belong to me in any way, shape or form. The story and OCs are my own, but the personified nations in this work of fiction are not. Thanks to the author for creating this series and its wonderful cast of characters._

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From some unknown location far away, more gunshots rang out. China looked out over the wreckage of Nanking in disbelief, too stunned to notice the chill biting into his exposed cheeks. To his left, smoke drifted through the vacant street. Small piles of smashed wood had ignited in dull orange flames. To his right was a pile of rubble, the remains of a shop, the shards of its front window littering the dirtied ground.

_This is real. It's not a nightmare, is it? These past few days-…Is that a person?_

A dust-covered shoe could just barely be seen peeking out of the pile of bricks. China crouched down and looked at it wearily. The foot was tiny - without a doubt belonging to a child. Some little boy or girl was lying there, crushed by stone.

"H-hey," he squeaked, tapping the appendage lightly, as if to wake its sleeping owner. He knew that the child was dead, but wasn't willing to believe it.

"Mr. Wang!" A voice rang out from among the street's smoggy flames. China looked up. It was one of his own soldiers, running towards him and panting heavily. As the young man ran, he would occasionally trip and stumble for a second, then regaining his pace. China soon realized that the soldier was bleeding from his ankle.

"Mr. Wang! I'm so glad you're okay!" The man struggled to catch his breath and gave a relieved smile as he neared him. His face was dirtied and the nation could see a piece of glass lodged in his cheek.

China recalled the man's face… He had always seen this soldier among the men, spreading positivity and patriotism. They had faithfully gone to battle, devoted and hopeful, all for his sake.

_It's all my fault._

A bead of sweat ran down the nation's face and his face contorted in a silent sob. He gritted his teeth as he tried to regain his focus.

"Sit down…please." China stuttered.

The soldier stopped suddenly and looked at him concernedly. After a moment of silence, however, the young man lowered himself to the ground and leaned against a metal foundation, his injured leg kept straight in front of him.

China kneeled by the injured man. Without saying a word, he tore the fabric of his dirty uniform, the sound of the ripping echoing through the empty street. A large splinter of wood served as a makeshift splint. With fumbling fingers, he wrapped the bleeding ankle, tearing fabric from his coat without hesitation.

_It's all my fault that the people are dying._

Silent tears fell from his eyes as he worked. Anger filled him, alongside self-loathing and pity. The nation didn't notice the soldier watching him concernedly.

_I should have cared for him…How could I have known? …How couldn't I have?... _

China thought back to years past, to all the times when Japan had reached out, only to be cast aside. That nation had watched and mimicked his every mood, admiring the older nation as much more than a neighbor, instead expecting to finally be recognized by a nation whose sights seemed permanently set on Korea.

_Look, China! I can do it too! Look!"_

_"How's my cooking China? Do you like it?"_

_"Chinaaaaa! Why do you always pick Korea over me?! I'm just as good as him!"_

Eager eyes, once filled with expectation and excitement, had become blank and emotionless; that voice of enthusiasm became formal and detached. He had watched as the nation became a stranger to him, until those strange words had escaped his mouth.

_"You might not believe it now, China, but one day I will become stronger than you. Maybe then everyone will listen."_

Back then, he had sat there, surprised and slightly entertained, awaiting a reply. None came, but instead the white-clad island nation had walked the room quietly. Over the next few years, Japan had brought down all of his military power on China. The loving admirer he had once known was now bent on domination.

An explosion a few blocks away rocked China back into his senses. He looked down at his hands; the hasty bandaging seemed to be relatively secure. As he made a quick, snug knot and slipped the soldier's shoe back on, the previously silent man began to speak.

"Mr. Wang… you've lost a loved one, haven't you." China locked eyes with the soldier, who stared back at him with a puppy-like sort of empathy. "You look regretful."

"I…Yes. I have."

"I did too, but we need to keep going. They're telling everyone to leave the city behind." The soldier stood up with a huff.

China looked up, startled.

_They didn't tell me about this!_

"They sent me out to find you and bring you out. We have to save ourselves and let the Japanese have Nanking."

_No!_ _He killed thousands! There are children dead on the streets and people crushed by their homes!_

"Wang, please!"

_First Manchuria, now Nanking._

"PLEASE!" The soldier raised his voice suddenly, tugging China's arm and pulling the stunned nation to his feet and compelling him to begin walking into the smoky gloom.

A burning pain shot through China's chest as he felt an emptiness open up inside of him. Another part of him was lost to the war.

_I'm so sorry that I brushed you aside. You deserved so much better. Why did I have to bring you to these lengths?_

The pair's walk accelerated to a half run as the nation's wounded companion hobbled through the street. A sudden shock hit China as they emerged from the smoke. Before him, a figure stood stiffly in the middle of the street. The white uniform, the expression, and the blank brown eyes were unmistakable.

"Japa-" China began.

"SHIT!" The soldier tugged him away, moving as fast as an injured ankle could possibly allow.

China looked back at Japan pleadingly, seeking some remnant of their old affection. All that those eyes held, however, was coldness and disdain.

More gunshots rang out. The two nations locked eyes for a moment, and then looked away instantly. They both knew that those peaceful times were over. It seemed that no resolution would ever come between them, only destruction.


End file.
